


Silver Strand

by ClaraxBarton



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2018-11-29 10:52:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11439333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: Summary: The world had shifted, boundaries had been crossed, right and wrong had long ago been abandoned. A dark story of revenge, love, loss and drug smuggling. AU set in Coronado, California in the 1970s. Based on/Inspired by Joshuah Bearman’s “Coronado High”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amberly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberly/gifts).



> Warnings: angst, language, violence, character death, drugs, sex
> 
> Pairings: 2x3, 1x2, 2x5, 3x5, 2x3x5, 2x13, 4x6, HxR, 9xS, others
> 
> Always, always thank you to Ro for everything. You are an incredible beta and I would be lost without you.

Lucy handed over the binoculars with an indignant huff.

Heero adjusted the lenses in front of his eyes and felt his stomach revolt at the memory of sweltering heat, razor-sharp foliage and the thunder of explosions that rose to the surface.

He pushed back the memory, forced himself to remember that he was _here_. Coronado Beach. Thousands of miles and sixteen months away from Vietnam.

Once he felt steady, Heero focused on the sight before him, using the binoculars to pick out the details that he and Lucy, from their vantage point by the highway, couldn’t make out with their naked eyes.

To anyone else, the small gathering on the beach probably looked like a bunch of surfers grilling after a lazy afternoon in the sun.

And the assortment of boards, towels, coolers and golden, half-naked bodies gathered around a portable grill only reinforced that idea.

But Heero and Lucy weren’t anyone else, and they had been watching this group - this eclectic crew of Coronado locals - for too long to be fooled.

He could pick out Treize, manning the grill and watching over his vassals with a smug smirk.

Treize, who had been Heero’s Spanish teacher and coach of the basketball team, and who, if the rumors were to be believed, ran the Silver Strand smuggling company.

Every person on that beach was familiar to Heero - classmates from high school or former neighbors - and every single one of them had a headshot pinned to the huge corkboard in the office that Heero and Lucy shared.

The newly-formed DEA was sharing office space with the San Diego Animal Control Center’s administrative offices - a fact that chafed every day that Heero had to walk into the damn building - and if Lucy and Heero could make this case, it would go a hell of a long way towards getting the local DEA branch enough funding to actually be functional.

All Heero had to do was take down the people he had grown up with.

He looked away from Treize and focused on Duo Maxwell. His long brown hair was streaked with gold, his eyes covered with dark sunglasses, his shorts riding so low on his hips that Heero could see the bare curve of his ass and the sculpted lines of his pelvis. He was laughing, waving his hands to tell some story, and he looked golden and perfect.

Duo had been Heero’s first kiss - his first damn near everything.

Was he about to be Heero’s first big bust?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: As always, thank you to Ro for your patience, encouragement and friendship. You are a remarkable beta reader.

Warnings: angst, language, violence, character death, drugs, sex

Pairings: 2x3, 1x2, 2x5, 3x5, 2x3x5, 2x13, 4x6, HxR, 9xS, 1xD,  others

 

Trowa imagined he could still feel the effects of the sun on Duo’s body, imagined that the supple flesh between his hands radiated heat from the blazing orb just now setting across the water. He imagined that the salt he licked from Duo’s neck was from the water, a lingering wave that had chased after him as Duo surfed through the tides. He imagined the breathless laugh, tinged with lust, that slipped from Duo’s lips was the lingering joy of a day spent basking in the golden California afternoon.

He imagined that he could feel all of those things, imagined that he could be as careless and carefree.

He imagined that the heavy breezes that occasionally lifted the surf didn’t remind him of wading through shallow waters with his rifle held just high enough to keep dry. He imagined that the sun baking down overhead didn’t remind him of treks across open fields, imagined that he didn’t still feel the tickle of fear at the base of his neck that meant someone was watching, meant an enemy was close by and death was imminent. He imagined that he didn’t touch Duo and remember the lifeless bodies he had had to push aside just so he could escape the clutches of death. He imagined that Duo’s soft moans of pleasure didn’t remind him of the whimpers of men dying.

He had always had a good imagination, but maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe that was why he struggled to stay grounded in reality, maybe that was why memory and sensation and nightmare warred with him constantly.

“Babe,” Duo crooned, just a little impatient, his movements insistent.

Trowa clutched onto him, the warm, firm skin of Duo’s thighs a lifeline.

He felt Duo shift, felt the slick heat of his anus glide against Trowa’s hard cock, and Trowa held his breath as Duo took him in hand and positioned him.

He slid into Duo’s body in one swift, sharp motion, both of them gasping, both of them clutching each other.

Duo rode him, slowly, each movement a lingering caress, a tease of intimacy. Trowa lay back, held on and let Duo set the pace, let himself forget everything but the fit of Duo against him, made himself map the lines of Duo’s lean torso and his powerful legs and arms, made himself meet Duo’s half-closed eyes.

He wanted to drown in Duo, wanted to melt into his body and leave everything else behind. 

Duo felt it, always could, and his fingers tightened on Trowa’s shoulders.

“Tro.”

It was a gasp, a plea that made Trowa feel desperate and desolate.

He dug his fingers into Duo’s hips, saw the wince on Duo’s face and immediately loosened his hold.

“No, no, s’fine,” Duo panted as his body moved, his pace turning feverish and his face and body flushed with arousal.

He was close, his weeping cock begging for attention, and Trowa ignored Duo’s assurances. He took hold of Duo’s cock and stroked it.

Trowa could feel his own climax approaching, could feel the tightening in his balls and the tension in his thighs, and the urge to thrust savagely into Duo’s body was almost overwhelming.

Duo whimpered, and his fingers spasmed.

“Tro. Babe. Oh, babe- Oh please, please- Trowa!”

Trowa held him as Duo came, milking his cock and easing him down from orgasm, taking in the sated, sloppy grin on Duo’s face and feeling a painful tug on his heart.

His own climax felt bittersweet, felt like relief and guilt and pleasure spun into a complex web that left him feeling drained and vulnerable in ways he hated.

Duo moved, cum leaving a streak across Trowa’s thighs and belly, and Duo shifted to lay down on the bed beside him.

Trowa lifted his arm and Duo fit himself against his side, cheek over Trowa’s heart.

“Tro?”

I’m here.

Trowa wanted to say it, wanted to mean it.

But Duo hated when he lied.

Instead, he tangled his fingers in Duo’s hair and closed his eyes and tried to breathe.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: As always, thank you to Ro for your patience, encouragement and friendship. You are a remarkable beta reader.

Warnings: angst, language, violence, character death, drugs, sex

Pairings: 2x3, 1x2, 2x5, 3x5, 2x3x5, 2x13, 4x6, HxR, 9xS, 1xD,  others

 

“You’re alive.”

Heero stared at him, his face as calm and unnerving as the ocean before a storm.

Duo realized he should say something else - anything else. Pointing out the obvious to Heero wasn’t going to propel this chance meeting away from awkwardness anytime soon.

But after a moment, Heero nodded.

“I got back last year.”

Words that had an all-too-familiar curl of rage growing in Duo’s belly.

“Last YEAR?” he clarified.

Heero nodded again.

“And this is the first time you’ve set foot in Coronado?” It wasn’t really a question - wasn’t even a guess.

Another nod, and Heero’s equilibrium started to falter at Duo’s answering glare.

“You’ve been alive and away from that hellhole for a YEAR-”

“Sixteen months.”

“Did you even tell your mom? Did you make her wait this long to know if you were safe?”

Heero shook his head in the negative. And while Duo was relieved that he had at least done that, it made it even more abundantly clear that Heero hadn’t even thought to tell Duo he was still alive.

Duo, who had learned to surf beside Heero in the warm, shallow waters just a few yards from Heero’s bedroom. Duo, who had learned how to kiss, how to tease, how to fuck in that same bedroom. Duo, who had watched his brother get drafted, who had watched Trowa volunteer, and then, after everyone else had left him, had had to see even Heero drafted and shipped off. Duo, who hadn’t heard a word - hadn’t received a single letter - in almost four years from Heero.

“Well that’s fucking great.”

Duo slammed the hood of the car closed.

“Get your oil changed and have someone look at the radiator.”

Heero reached into his pocket for his wallet.

“How much do I owe you?”

Duo glared at him, fought the urge to rip the bills out of the wallet and throw them into the wind.

“Nothing,” he snarled as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “You don’t owe me anything.”

He got back into the cab of the truck and waited until Heero drove off, waited until his anger faded and he was left with just relief, just despair, just a dark pit of emptiness where his heart had once been.

Heero was alive. That was something. It was so much more than Heero being dead.

And somewhere out there, Trowa was alive.

And at home, in his room, staring at the ocean, Solo was alive too.

Everyone Duo loved was alive.

And everyone Duo loved had left him.

 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: As always, thank you to Ro for your patience, encouragement and friendship. You are a remarkable beta reader.

Warnings: angst, language, violence, character death, drugs, sex

Pairings: 2x3, 1x2, 2x5, 3x5, 2x3x5, 2x13, 4x6, HxR, 9xS, 1xD,  others

 

It was easier than it should have been. At least, it _felt_  easier than it should have.

Hilde didn’t think so - she laughed at Relena’s amazement and shook her head.

“If a beautiful, half-naked girl offers you something, you’re going to buy it.”

Relena frowned.

“I’m not half-naked,” she protested. She was fully dressed, and she had heard her own father complain far too often that a bikini top and her denim cut-offs were _not_  clothes. 

She did not need or want to hear it from Hilde.

Hilde saw the tension in Relena’s face and she reached over to hold her hand.

“Sorry,” they both said at the same time, and the moment dissolved as they smiled at each other.

“I’m just saying.” Hilde scooted closer to Relena on the bus seat. At this time of day, going _to_  Coronado from San Diego, it was nearly empty. Hilde used her free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Relena’s ear.

“I’m just saying that if a gorgeous girl offers you excellent weed at a good price, you’re not going to say no. Even if you _are_  in your navy dress uniform.”

Relena leaned her head against Hilde’s.

“It was fun,” she confessed, and Hilde smirked.

Duo had come back from his most recent trip to Mexico with more pot than usual, and Hilde had talked him out of a fair amount of it with the promise to sell it for him.

Duo had hesitated - he wasn’t looking to smuggle pot for money, but so he could take care of a few friends and, Relena was sure, for the adrenaline rush of getting it from Mexico to California.

She still wasn’t sure how he did it, but once every two weeks Duo would drop off a bag of fresh grass for Hilde or Relena with a smirk on his face and wave away any offer of money.

Relena had convinced him - and despite the fact that she had been in just her bathing suit at the time, she knew that Duo, of all the locals in Coronado, didn’t give a damn about how she looked in it.

Duo had caved, had admonished them to be careful and not do it in Coronado, and Relena kissed him on the nose while Hilde smirked triumphantly.

“We made two hundred dollars,” Hilde confided.

Relena felt her eyes widen in shock.

“Seriously?”

Hilde nodded, and they shared another smile.

“We need to talk to Duo.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Tumbledrylemur!
> 
> I've got quite a few chapters of this that need to be posted and then more new to write!

A/N: As always, thank you to Ro for your patience, encouragement and friendship. You are a remarkable beta reader.

Warnings: angst, language, violence, character death, drugs, sex

Pairings: 2x3, 1x2, 2x5, 3x5, 2x3x5, 2x13, 4x6, HxR, 9xS, 1xD,  others

 

Wufei had spent an hour at the store deliberating on whether or not to get a hammock.

Chang Wufei, growing up in a Boston row house with a scant ten-foot square patch of dirt for a backyard, had never even used a hammock, much less had one rigged up.

In Vietnam, they were everywhere, elaborately chained together and made of the heavy duty green canvas that never seemed to be in short supply even when everything else was. Guys would even rig them up in the field, insisting sleeping in the air kept the worst of the bugs away, glaring at Wufei when he pointed out that bugs and snakes had no problem scaling trees.

But now, in Coronado, posing as a stoner vet trying to scrounge together whatever kind of work he could, living in a minuscule beach-side bungalow, Wufei had decided a hammock was a necessity.

And maybe it wasn’t, not really, but then again, when Wufei laid in it at night and closed his eyes to listen to the rumbling surf, it gave him the smallest measure of peace, the only peace he had felt for a very long time.

He and Meilan had never gotten along. That they were second cousins and spent every second arguing with each other didn’t seem to factor into anyone’s decision that they should get married.

The wedding itself had been hurried and awkward - Wufei was due to ship out in just one week, and Meilan had to sit her final exams at Stanford in two days.

They spent the honeymoon studying, the importance of an education being the only thing they could agree on, and when they finally lay down in the giant bed together, exhausted and feeling almost charitable towards one another, Wufei told her the secret that he had never spoken aloud before.

“I’m homosexual.”

She had been silent in the darkness, long enough that Wufei had built his defenses back up and tried to think of how to control the damage, of what to tell the family when Meilan inevitably spread his greatest shame.

“Maybe being drafted into the army will have a few perks for you, then,” she said.

He was so anxious that he didn’t immediately process the joke. By the time he did, the moment had passed and Meilan had shifted in the bed, moved over to lay her head against his back and place her arm around his waist.

It was the most intimate moment Wufei had ever shared with anyone.

“I’m not going to move to Boston and become the perfect daughter-in-law for your mother.”

Wufei had to snort a laugh. The very image of Meilan cooking and cleaning while his mother critiqued her every move and Meilan kept a fake smile plastered on her face was ludicrous.

“Do you want an annulment?” It was only fair to offer it to her.

“No.” He could feel her heartbeat, the warm puff of her words against his skin. “They would just try to foist me off on someone else. I’ve been offered a job in Coronado, teaching elementary school. I’m moving there after I graduate.”

“Coronado?”

“It’s near San Diego. Isolated, quiet, beautiful. Full of hippies and peaceniks.”

“Your kind of people,” Wufei muttered, thinking about all of the complaints from her parents over the years about Meilan protesting one thing or another, their sheer horror when she went to peace rallies and Civil Rights marches.

“Well, and there’s the naval base. Should keep things a little interesting. I’ll get a two bedroom house. If you don’t get yourself killed, you can come visit me after the war.”

Wufei hadn’t gotten himself killed, but even before he had returned from Vietnam - while he was in a field hospital being treated for what he insisted were minor injuries but had earned him the glare of more than a few nurses and an eyeroll from an overworked medic - Wufei had been approached by someone in the army intelligence branch, had been told that the FBI was looking for talented individuals like himself, and when he got stateside, he should think about it.

The flight back was plenty of time for Wufei to think about it.

His philosophy degree felt useless in the face of everything he had witnessed, everything he had DONE. The intellectualism that Meilan had always needled him about felt just as silly and worthless as she had always insisted. 

Joining the FBI, making himself useful, working to eradicate evil one case at a time - he could do that.

Outside of the jungle, outside of the swampy mess of chaos and war, Wufei knew he could judge wrong and right. Knew his inner compass would steer him just as it always had, but now there would be a true north to guide him.

He had taken the job, had gone through the training and taken his assignment in Texas with no complaints.

It wasn’t until two years later, until the call from his mother, that Wufei even allowed himself to remember that night of peace, of union, he had experienced.

“Meilan is dead. They found her body in Mexico.” His mother had been cold, her disapproval of both Meilan and Wufei had been a constant thread in their conversations for four years.

But Wufei… Wufei hadn’t felt cold at all. Hadn’t felt the numbness that had surrounded his heart and mind since his first day in Vietnam, when he had watched a man’s legs get blown off by a landmine and a small child get shot in the neck when she started to fire a pistol at his patrol, the recoil so strong she staggered back with each step, until the spray of bullets that hit her sent her flying to the ground.

Wufei felt anger, felt guilt and loss, and he FELT. For the first time in years.

Meilan was dead.

The second bedroom of her house never used, her dreams to change the world turning to ash in Wufei’s mouth.

“The policeman who called say she was shot. Say she was murdered.”

Two years of working for the FBI had given Wufei the structure and purpose he desperately needed after being made so brutally aware of the failures in his worldview.

The murder of his wife sent all of that crashing down.

“I’ll take care of it,” Wufei told his mother before hanging up.

It was one of the things his time in the army had drilled into him. You take care of your own. The men around you were more than brothers. The things you saw - the things you did - they bonded you together in ways no one wanted. And you took care of each other, you protected each other, and you got revenge when one of them fell.

He would take care of this, would take care of Meilan in the only way he could.

 


End file.
